


Sweater Weather

by BobbySinger (wylf_storm)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Some Swearing, Sweaters, Winter, commission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-27
Updated: 2014-02-27
Packaged: 2018-01-13 22:07:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1242343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wylf_storm/pseuds/BobbySinger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean wasn’t sure whether his eyes were lying to him, or if reality had gone and warped itself in such a way that people had been distorted.<br/>Or maybe Castiel was just wearing a truly hideous sweater.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweater Weather

**Author's Note:**

> A request from tumblr:  
> "Cas comes to one of their coffee store dates wearing an ugly sweater with lots of tiny cats on it, and Dean jokes about it a lot, but when he gets home Dean finds a sweater with a big black cat on it with a note "for Dean" and he puts it on and never takes it off because it smells like Cas."

Dean wasn’t sure whether his eyes were lying to him, or if reality had gone and warped itself in such a way that people had been distorted.

Or maybe Castiel was just wearing a truly hideous sweater.

Dean had been happily dating his best friend turned boyfriend Castiel for a couple of weeks now, and since it was heading into winter, they often met up at the local café to camp out from the cold weather and share a hot drink together. Dean knew Cas had a bit of a thing for jumpers and cozy sweaters having seen the other man’s drawers overflowing with them in his apartment, as well as the few scattered around his own place from when Castiel had been there last, but this? This was a whole new level of sweater-intensity, even for Castiel.

“Hello Dean,” He mumbled, smiling and pushing his sleeves up to free his hands. Now that he was closer Dean could see clearly that it was too big for him, and the pattern was even more hideous than he had realized. The entire thing was covered in small black cats, sitting, stretching, walking - you name it, there was probably a cat doing it. They were arranged in lines on bands of colour, and Dean blinked a few times to clear his head of their garish images.

“Hey Cas. What’s with the sweater?”

Castiel grinned and pulled at the bottom hem, pulling it flat so Dean could see it better. “Do you like it? I found it at a thrift store. It’s my favourite sweater so far.” He set down his cup on the table and sat across from Dean.

“Yeah, it’s… it’s somethin’ else. It’s kinda bright, don’t you think?”

“It is, isn’t it? That’s why I like it! There’s probably not one the same in the whole state of Kansas,” He enthused, tugging the sleeves up from where they had slid down over his wrists again.

“Yeah, well, it’s certainly unique, that’s for sure. Nobody else’ll have green, purple and navy blue stripes like you.” Dean couldn’t help that the corner of his mouth pulled up as he said it, and Castiel frowned sternly at him.

“If you don’t like it, just say, Dean.”

“ No no no, I love it!” He smiled a little too widely at the end, and Castiel rolled his eyes. Dean got his laughter under control to explain himself. “No, I’m serious! It looks good on you.” He loved it on Castiel, at least, but would never wear the thing himself. Castiel beamed at his compliment and leaned over the table for a kiss, which Dean gave willingly. “You’re a nerd,” He mumbled against Cas’s mouth. He felt an answering huff before Castiel reseated himself and drank his coffee.

“You’re rude.” He said matter-of-factly.

“Yeah, but that’s why you like me.” Dean leaned back in his chair, toeing Castiel’s shoe with his own. He smiled more broadly when Cas frowned at him but didn’t pull away. The rest of the date passed smoothly with silences that were comfortable between bouts of conversation, before both pitched their empty cups into the bin, zipped up their coats and stepped out into the chill air. Dean promptly grabbed Cas’s hand before he could tug his glove on and shoved it into his coat pocket, still firmly held in his own. Cas chose not to comment on it, only smirking a little at him sideways.

“I’ve gotta stop to get some groceries before I head back home. You wanna come with?” Dean said when they were a block away from the supermarket. Cas shook his head slowly.

“I can’t, sorry. I’ve got… something to attend to. I’ll see you at my place when you’re done?”

“Like I could turn you down,” Dean bumped his shoulder gently.

Cas filled the remainder of their walk with chatter about his day before meeting Dean for coffee, and Dean let him. It wasn’t often that Cas talked for long lengths of time, and Dean liked it when he did. All too soon the neon sign of the supermarket was in front of them, and Dean mulishly removed Cas’s hand from his pocket.

“Half an hour tops, then I’ll be over, okay?” Dean swung their linked hands idly, turning to face Cas and his sweater.

“I know, Dean. I’ll see you soon.” Cas said, just before Dean sealed their lips together like he was sealing a promise. Castiel smirked and darted away when they parted, leaving Dean to do his shopping alone. He shook his head fondly and grabbed a basket. The sooner he was done, the better.

The aisles of milk, bread and confectionery held little interest for him today, and he breezed through them easily, only swayed once or twice by a tub of ice cream on special and a deal going on chocolate bars, two for the price of one. He scooped up his bags at the counter, flashing the cashier a winning smile before darting out into the cold again, bags clutched in gloved hands. He walked briskly back to his apartment, and went to turn the heating on to get some warmth into him, only to find it was already on.

He dropped the bags where he stood and scrambled for his pocket knife in the back pocket of his jeans. He flipped the blade out before stalking into the kitchen and spotting the note and package on his table top. He paused for a few moments, considering.

It wasn’t a bomb – the perps didn’t know when he’d be back. Plus it was the wrong shape.

It wasn’t an animal or a dead body – again, wrong shape.

Dean quietly toed towards it, and craned his neck to read the note in sloping hand on top. “Jesus christ, Cas,” He muttered, flipping the knife shut and stuffing it back into his pocket. He was curious about what he now knew to be Castiel’s present, but the fact remained that his ice cream was slowly melting on the hall floor, so he retrieved his groceries and put them away first. Once that was done, he pulled up a chair at the kitchen table and yanked the package towards him. A small note with only two words – for Dean – rested on top of whatever it was that was wrapped in brown packing paper, nothing fancy, and it gave slightly when he picked it up. He wasted no time liberating it, and sighed when the contents spilled out into his lap.

A sweater. Cas had got him a sweater. And not just any sweater, a cat sweater.

Dean shook it out and held it up by the shoulders to inspect it properly, revealing a grey background with a black cat body on the front, white-tipped paws hanging down like it was slung over his shoulders. The face was embroidered neatly in pink and white for whiskers and nose, and upon turning it around, he discovered that the cat’s tail and hind legs were on the back too, completing the image of a person wearing a cat. The sweater was vaguely familiar to him, but he didn’t remember Castiel ever having worn it. The wool was soft between his fingers, and he couldn’t help but pull it over his head to try it out, and perhaps discover why Castiel liked sweaters so damn much anyway. It was comfortable, that much he knew, and there was a faint scent lingering about it. He bent his head and breathed in the smell of anise, chamomile, and wool soap, tinged with undertones of something darker, masculine and distinctly Castiel. It was exactly the same smell that permeated the air in Castiel’s apartment, and Dean loved it.

He stopped rubbing his nose in the sweater eventually, and gathered his things to go to Cas’s place like he promised. His arrival was greeted with a smirk and a rather passionate kiss on Dean’s part.

“I take it you like your sweater, then?” Castiel asked wryly after regaining his breath. Dean said nothing and Cas’ smirk grew.

Whatever. If Dean loved his sweater to bits and was hardly ever seen out of doors without it in winter then that was his problem.

_Stupid boyfriends and their stupid sweater obsessions_ , he reflected, watching Castiel hang their combined washing. Somehow his sweater never smelled the same unless Cas washed it. He didn’t mind. In fact, he liked it more than he was willing to ever admit.


End file.
